The Girl With No Name

Chapter Eight

“What the hell was that about?” Noah asked as he drove them over to Foxy Tails.

“You can add Mayor Charleston’s husband to Misty’s list of potential fathers,” Josie told him.

Noah gave a low whistle. “Damn. Is there anyone she didn’t sleep with?”

Josie hated that old double standard: a promiscuous man was virile, but a promiscuous woman was a slut. She couldn’t care less how many men Misty slept with, it was her penchant for married men that made Josie’s skin prickle. “You,” she said, quietly, the word coming out more as a question than a statement.

He took his eyes off the road in surprise. “You’re right,” he said. “Well, that’s one less person we have to alibi.”

“Speaking of that,” Josie mumbled. Pulling out her phone, she texted Gretchen and instructed her to pay the mayor’s husband a visit and check his story.

Noah slowed the car. Again, he glanced at her, his brow creased with concern. “You sure you’re up for this?”

Josie answered with a look that said, never ask me that again. And Noah’s silence for the rest of the journey said he wouldn’t.

Foxy Tails lay on the outskirts of Denton, along a winding mountain road, several miles from the center of the city yet still considered Denton. It would have been easily missed by drivers except for the giant pink neon sign at the edge of the road announcing, “Foxy Tails Live Girls”. The building itself was squat and unattractive, its drab gray cinderblock walls topped with a flat black roof. A set of purple double doors added the only splash of color. It was almost dinner time by the time Noah and Josie pulled in, and the parking lot was half full.

Inside, music pulsed, the bass drumming through Josie’s body, making her feel as though she was being propelled by the beat. Topless women in thongs and high heels weaved their way through the tables scattered throughout the darkened room, delivering drinks and luring patrons from their tables to the back rooms, where Josie knew the girls gave private lap dances. A stage jutted out into the middle of the room, and a pale woman with tiny breasts and ample hips gyrated against a pole in the center of the stage. A few patrons gathered around the stage, drinks in one hand, dollar bills in the other. Other patrons hung back at the small tables, their eyes following the waitresses greedily. The place smelled of cigarettes, stale beer, and need.

Behind the bar stood a woman who looked very similar to Misty Derossi—slender, blond and perfectly tanned. She wore a flannel crop top and cut-off denim shorts which made her look rather overdressed compared to the other women there. She smiled at Noah until she saw Josie trailing behind him.

“We’re here to see Butch,” Noah said, shouting to be heard as he flashed his badge.

The woman frowned and opened her mouth to speak.

“And before you say he’s not here,” Josie interjected. “It’s about Misty.”

A hand flew to the woman’s mouth. “Is she okay?”

“No,” Josie said flatly. “We really need to see Butch.”

“The baby?”

“Missing. Can you take us to Butch now, please?”

“Oh my God, was that what the Amber Alert was about? Misty’s baby?”

“Butch. Now,” Josie said.

The woman looked as though she wanted to ask more questions but dared not. She glanced at Noah who smiled politely. Apparently, Josie’s word wasn’t good enough. “Just a minute,” she told him.

Ten minutes later, they were being led down a long hallway with black painted walls and a threadbare hot-pink carpet. They stopped outside a black door, barely noticeable except for its gold doorknob, and the woman knocked. The door swung open and the bartender ushered Josie and Noah inside, closing the door behind them. The office was large with wood-paneled walls, drab brown carpet, and a large cherrywood desk shaped like an L. Behind it sat Butch McConnell and behind him were several small flat-screen televisions live-streaming the activity in various parts of the club. Wires snaked from a small junction box fixed to the wall beneath the screens. On the front of the box, in small gold lettering, Josie could make out the words Rowland Industries.

Josie tore her eyes from the CCTV system and looked at Butch as he stood to shake both their hands. The man was massive. Easily six foot six, he wore a black crew-neck T-shirt beneath a black suit jacket. Josie could see rolls of flab fighting for position where his stomach protruded from under the jacket. He looked like a mountain made of marshmallows. Even the skin of his face drooped like a slobbering basset hound. He was likely in his forties, his combed-back hair noticeably thinning at the top as he leaned forward to motion for them to sit, which Noah did. Josie remained standing.

“What can I do for you, officers?” Butch asked with the easy solicitousness of a man expecting trouble, but hoping that with enough smarm they might be able to work something out.

“We’re here about one of your dancers,” Josie said. “Misty Derossi.”

Butch smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Misty quit. Got pregnant. Been out a few months now.”

“She’s not out on maternity leave?” Noah asked.

Butch laughed. “We don’t have maternity leave, my friend. I told her if she could keep her ass tight, she could probably have her job back when she was ready, but I can’t exactly hold the position open. No way could I let her dance again if her body was all messed up from having a kid.”

Charming, Josie thought. “How long did Misty work for you?”

Butch shrugged. “I don’t know. Four, five years? When she started to show, I had to have a talk with her. I mean, she had a lot of guys who came around pretty regular for private dances and she wanted to stay and just do that, but I couldn’t let her. Can’t have a pregnant dancer waddling around. I offered to let her work behind the bar for another couple of weeks, but she just quit.”

“Did Misty ever talk to you about her pregnancy?” Josie asked.

“Nah. Nothing other than to tell me about it.”

“She never mentioned the father?”

Butch shook his head. “Not to me. You can talk to the other girls. Maybe she said something to them.”

“You and Misty—was your relationship strictly professional?” Noah interjected.

Butch smiled knowingly. “You’re asking if we had a thing? No. Not with Misty. I try not to get involved with my girls. Makes things… complicated. I get accused of playing favorites. It can get ugly.”

“We need a list of her regular customers,” Noah said.

Butch shook his head. He still hadn’t asked what happened to Misty or why they were there. Josie assumed the bartender had told him what she said, but still, she would have expected him to want more details. Did he know something, or was he really just that much of a dick? “Can’t do it,” he said. “Can’t violate my customers’ privacy.”

Josie stepped forward and placed a palm flat on his desk. “If you don’t give us a list, we’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

A genuine look of surprise crossed his face. Josie realized he was used to bossing women around, not being told what to do by one. “Do I need a lawyer?” he asked.

Josie put her other hand on the desk and leaned in toward him, nailing him in place with her stare. “I don’t know. Do you?”

She let a moment pass. When he didn’t respond, she said, “Where were you this morning?”

He looked toward Noah as if looking for a lifeline. “What?” For the first time, he looked flustered. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Just answer the question,” Noah said.

“I was… I was home. Then I was here. I—”

“And what about yesterday? Where were you?” Josie continued.

“The same. I… I… no, wait, I worked out yesterday. Yesterday, before I came here, I went to the gym.”

Josie strongly doubted that but didn’t say anything to Butch. “What time do you come in here for work?”

“Between one and two in the afternoon,” Butch said. “It’s the same, every day. I stay till closing usually.”

“You don’t have someone under you who manages this place when you’re not here?” Noah asked.

Butch shook his head. “Are you kidding me? You know what it would cost me to pay a manager?”

“You never take a vacation?” Josie said.

“Sometimes. I usually just have the senior girl take over for the week.”

“Which gym do you go to?” Noah asked, pulling out his notepad and jotting down Butch’s answer.

Josie pointed to the bank of screens on the wall. “How far back do you keep video?”

“Six months,” he said.

“Really?” Noah asked. “Most places keep surveillance for a week, if that.”

Butch shrugged. “Yeah, my old system only kept footage for seventy-two hours. I had this one installed last year, keeps everything for six months. It came in handy back in May when some guy tried to sue, saying he slipped and fell at the bar. I had the footage showing he didn’t fall once while he was here.”

Josie said, “We’re going to need to review the footage on this CCTV for the last seventy-two hours. Actually, if you’ve got footage of the last couple of months Misty was working, we’d like to have a look at that as well.”

“I can’t do that. I mean, don’t you need a warrant or something?”

Josie snapped a look at Noah, and he pulled out his phone and sent a text; Gretchen would have the warrant within the hour.

Josie ignored Butch’s question. “When your bartender came in to tell you we were here, what did she say to you?”

“She said something happened with Misty, the baby was missing, and the police wanted to talk to me.”

“Yet you haven’t asked us what happened to her. So why don’t you tell us?”

Picking up Josie’s line of questioning, Noah said, “Since you’re not even the least bit curious, you must know what happened to her?”

Butch heaved himself up from his seat, raising both hands in the air. “No, no, no. I see what you’re doing. Something bad happened, and you want to pin it on me. I got nothing to do with anything outside of this club. I haven’t seen Misty in months.”

“Then why haven’t you asked us?” Josie said.

“I can prove where I was,” he went on. “I can prove it. I’ll let you see the videos, and you’ll see that I was here the last two days, almost the whole time.”

“Last year, when Misty went missing, you were concerned enough to send one of your girls to her house to see if she was there, but today you have no questions at all about what happened to her? Why?” Josie asked.

She stared hard at him until he dropped his hands. “Look,” he said. “I just assumed… I don’t know. Like, someone must have beat her up pretty bad.”

“You’re not interested in her condition?”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Look, lady, you gotta understand. Misty was an employee, okay? It’s not like we were best friends. I sent one of my girls to her house last year because the other girls said I should, but I have a business to run. You know how many girls I got coming in and out of here all the time? You know how much drama each one of them brings with her? I don’t got time to get personally involved with every one of ’em. I’m real sorry if things got messed up for her, but it was only a matter of time.”

“What do you mean by that?” Noah asked.

With a sigh, Butch lowered himself back into his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “What do you think it means? Like I said, all these girls like drama. Misty, she was no different. Some of my girls, they know how to shut these losers down.” He waved at the bank of screens. Across several of them, Josie could see the dancers’ and waitresses’ naked behinds working their way around the club. “These guys. Some of ’em just come to see some tits, you know? Have a beer, relax. Some of ’em like a little private dance and that’s it. They go home or back to their lives and everything’s fine. But a lot of these guys, they come in here regular-like, and they start to like a particular girl. They forget they’re paying for it, you know? They start to think it’s more than just tits. They get, like, obsessed. Now I seen a lot of girls use that, you know, exploit it. They’ll get all kinds of money and favors out of these dudes. They’ll milk it for as long as they can. Then one day the guy will cross the line, and I’ll have to bounce him. I don’t like doing it because that’s a paying customer, but I gotta maintain some rules, you know?”

“Did Misty exploit the men who fixated on her?” Josie asked.

Butch kept his eyes on Noah, as if he was the one asking all the questions. Josie didn’t care; as long as he answered her questions, it shouldn’t matter that he was pretending that Noah had asked them. “No,” Butch said. “I mean not really. Well, maybe. Misty would never intentionally use a guy. Men would come in, pay for a private dance and then pour their hearts out to her, and she would listen. She would remember everything they told her so the next time they came in, she’d ask, ‘How’s your mom?’ or ‘Did you get that thing with your supervisor straightened out’? I mean, she was a good dancer, but she always seemed like she was genuinely interested in her customers. The next thing you know, they think they’re in love with her.”

“Did any of them ever try to cross the line with Misty?” Noah asked.

“That’s the thing,” Butch said. “There was no line. Misty had relationships with them. She was into it. She didn’t get involved with every dude who thought he was in love with her, but she did with a lot of them. Sometimes it would last months. To her it was like an adventure, you know? She liked the attention and the newness—that’s what the other girls always said.” He raised his voice an octave, imitating a high-pitched female voice. “‘Oh, Misty, you just like the thrill of it all.’ My other dancers, they don’t want to be bothered once their shift is over. They don’t even want to look at another man. They get dressed and go home. It’s an act. You see what I’m saying? Like part of the show.”

“I understand,” Noah said.

“For Misty, it wasn’t like that. I think she liked having all these guys competing for her attention; taking her on trips and dates, buying her flowers and taking her shopping. The rest of the girls always asked her why she would hook up with a bunch of dirty pigs, and she said the ones she picked weren’t dirty pigs. She thought they were nice.”

“Did she ever fall for them?” Josie asked. “These men?”

“Nah,” Butch said. “She liked them, she ‘appreciated’ them, she always used to say. Sometimes she’d say she cared for them, but she was never in love. Not until the cop. He was the only one she was really into. Everything changed when she met him.”

Butch didn’t seem to notice the flash of emotion across Josie’s face. “She cut almost all of them off after she met the cop,” he went on. “That was real serious.”

“Her best friend said there were some issues with some of these men,” Josie pointed out, quickly changing the subject.

Butch nodded. “Well, when she broke it off, some of them didn’t take it so well. Sometimes I had to throw a guy out or walk her to her car for a couple of weeks. The real issue wasn’t usually with the men, it was with their wives. I told her to stay away from the married ones, but she said it wasn’t about marriage, it was about ‘connection.’ But the wives—boy, they were vicious. Crazier than any twelve dudes you’d see in this place. And you want to talk about stalkers? One of them wrecked her car one time.”

“Is that right?” Josie said.

“Oh yeah,” Butch said. “One time I had someone’s missus in here threatening to stab her. A couple of them went after her. Look, ‘connections’ or not, it was just a matter of time before someone snapped and went crazy on her. I mean, I hate to say that, but it’s the truth.”

“Any idea who that person might be?” Noah asked.

“Nah. Like I said, she stopped working for me, like, three or four months ago. I don’t know who she was messing with or what she was into.”

“What about the other girls who worked with her?” Josie asked. “Would they have a better idea?”

Butch shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’ll need to interview them,” Noah said.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Josie answered.

Butch turned slowly in his chair and looked at the bank of screens. “It’s really not good for my business to have a bunch of cops hanging around, talking to my girls.”

“We’ll use one of your private rooms,” Noah said. “We’ll be discreet.”

Butch didn’t turn back, but Josie could see him nodding his head reluctantly.